A View to a Kill
by WakaLaka4life
Summary: I wrote this for English class and got a 100! My teacher loved it and I thought I should post it, just cuz' it would be cool. I love Jack 3 Enjoy


**_A View to a Kill_**

_Chapter 13_

The redhead stared blankly out of the frosted window. He was home, back in England, but mentally he was still back on the island. _His _island, with _his_ boys, and _his_ pigs.

It had been two years since Jack Merridew had been rescued, but he never really left. He now sits alone in his room at the orphanage, dreaming all day. His fantasies consume him. The life that was once a pride to him, now seemed dull and uninteresting. Even his choir was now a bore.

His mind was lost. The nuns at the orphanage thought him nutty. They didn't mind him much. They came to check on him every day, but every day he remained the same, drawn to the outside world.

He diligently watched the trees, he listened and observed, like a lion eyeing it's prey. But, alas, there was nothing to prey upon.

The fifteen year old boy longed to hunt again. The feeling of power and control. The rush of adrenaline when he felt his spear pierce flesh.

His heart ached for freedom. It ached like it did when his parents died. He felt as though he had lost a friend, or a part of himself.

The rain outside fell almost silently. The door to the young man's chamber creaked softly as the woman stepped in. She was relatively young. The black that graced the sides of her face made her look even younger. She spoke softly.

"Jack, it's time for supper."

She knew her efforts of trying to get Jack to leave his post would be inevitably futile She would just bring him his food like every other day. His lips parted slightly. Then, in a voice of a boy turning to a man he said:

"I wish to leave." His words seemed to reverberate off of the chamber walls.

Her mouth was agape with astonishment. She had to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

"E-excuse me?" She stuttered out.

The boy turned to her. His russet colored locks graced his features. His cerulean blue eyes mirrored desire.

"I wish to leave." He repeated. She was awed by the amount of confidence and authority the boy had in his voice as he spoke. She struggled to remain composed.

"I don't believe you're allowed…" The woman looked frightened. She had heard of some of the terrible things that this child had done, he was also very intimidating.

He stood up. He was tall at the age of fifteen. His shoulders had broadened and his features were sharper. He looked much older than he should. She also noted that his eyes didn't twinkle with the innocence others his age had. He was solemn.

Jack grabbed his cloak and draped it around himself. The young man looked to his night stand where his knife lay. He picked it up, examined it, then tucked it away safely. Having his knife made his feel secure and more at ease.

The woman's expression was one of half confusion, half bafflement. The youth was starting to make his way out when she spoke up.

"You can't just leave. I can't let you just leave." She was hesitant to say this for she feared his response.

Jack furrowed his brow. He wished for this to be easy.

"I do what I want! I'm Jack Merridew!" he felt prided as he spoke his name. "I'm sick of this rubbish orphanage! I'm tired of these bloody nuns! I wish to be free! I am…a hunter!" he hesitated before he said the last word. He felt a switch flip in his mind. The dusty cogs started churning in his mind.

The urge to destroy that lay dormant in his mind for these two years resurfaced. He longed to feel the power of a kill.

A voice in his mind starting chanting; slowly and softly at first, but as the momentum increased so did the chant. It roared like a fire in his mind.

"Kill…Kill…Kill…" It screamed in the depths of his mind, awakening a sleeping monster.

Jack felt the blood coarse through his veins; his heart clambered in his chest. His head throbbed with the beating of a drum.

The redhead's impulses started to take him hostage. He fished through his pocket for his knife. He started walking, almost cautiously, toward the young nun. Her green eyes were wide with terror. She started begging for her life.

"Please…please don't." The tears welled in her eyes then trickled down her cheeks, like the rain that fell from the sky outside. She wanted to run, but she couldn't, she was frozen with mortification.

He stood towering over her, domineeringly and menacing. He raised his hand to spill her blood. He hesitated for a moment as the very last bit of humanity left him.

She screamed as the cool blade pierced her flesh. Jack felt the warm blood gush over his hand and between his fingers.

A sadistic grin of triumph slid across his lips. The still figure lay on the ground before him. The red liquid dripped from his blade on to the floor. Plop. Plop. Plop.

He wiped the blood stained knife on his cloak and his dirtied hands across his brow. The blood smeared across his forehead and blended with his strikingly red hair. He left the orphanage that seemed to buzz. As he got further away the buzzing became louder, deafening in his ears, while somewhere the Lord of the Flies was laughing. He had won.


End file.
